ChChChChanging
by Loves-Chihuahuas
Summary: He blinked hard and removed his finger—the girl did the same. He waved a shaking hand—the girl did so as well. Though tired, completely disoriented and terrified, Harry knew how mirrors worked. Logical Gender Bender and consequences. No slash, no OOC. OO
1. Chapter 1

_**Ch-Ch-Ch-Changing**_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter; JK Rowling does. I also do not own a pimp cane. Just thought I'd let you know to make you feel a bit safer.

**Warnings:** contains an actual explanation for gender-bending! Ohmahgawsh! _Slight _possibility of slash in future, I dunno. OH! And I like pudding! That is a dangerous association, pudding-lady! D:

**Important Info: **Takes place in middle of 5th year(after the snake incident). It will switch POV and scene as necessary. Oh, and, uhm, this is not character-biased—you will see this in a realistic setting as possible, including people's reactions and…whatnot. OwO takes off from page 497 of Chapter 23!

Summary: Everything about the life of those in the magical community is affected by magic—from tying shoes, to home defense, to nose-picking—so it is only logical that the way babies' genders of that magical community are determined is affected by that magic constantly surrounding and affecting them… especially those suddenly forced into close contact with vast amounts of magic after practically living without it for an extended period of time…

_**Ch-Ch-Ch-Changing **_

**Ch1**

_Subtitle: Wakey-wakey!_

Harry, after all he had just gone through in the past 24 odd hours—the horrific vision, the turmoil of not knowing Mr. Weasley's fate, the disastrous hospital visit, and Dumbledore sending Phineas to tell him to stay put like a good little boy—knew he would be too exhausted to fight sleep as he lay in bed, pretending he did not hear Ron's voice calling awkwardly about dinner. The troubled teen let himself drift off to a, with any luck, a _normal_ sleep, hoping he could wake up the next morning and avoid them all…

Harry slept a deeper sleep than he thought he would, waking at 5 am instead of his intended 4. Oddly enough, after all that sleep, he felt peculiarly exhausted—when he opened his eyes, he found it difficult to keep them from shutting, almost falling right back to sleep. Ron's snores, however, reminded him of his 'avoid them all to keep them safe' plan. He lifted his arms from his prone position, growing more worried now that he saw the image of his limbs shaking in the dark room. A bad feeling rising sour in his gut, almost nauseas, he forced his protesting, throbbing body out of bed. He swayed on his feet, the sudden, alien sense of disequilibrium crashing through his body, confusing his senses. He held completely still to avoid falling and waking Ron, waiting for the moment of unbalance to pass… Fifteen seconds later, and he was horrified that he still felt off-kilter. He cautiously moved forward towards where he knew his glasses lay on the bedside table, the tilted world around him seeming to move oddly before him. Slowly, painfully, he grasped his glasses and placed them awkwardly on his face, expecting the world to some into focus- it did not. In fact, his vision seemed to worsen with his glasses. His fear increased, and he jerkily tore his glasses off, panic rising in his chest.

'_What in the heck is going on?' _ he thought with horrendously increasing dread—could this perhaps be a side effect from his vision? He had to leave the room, balance or no. Harry clutched his glasses in his one hand, his wand in the other, and lurched out of the room and into the hall. He caught himself from tripping over the side of the banister, and something black caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He warily moved his aching head around, seeing nothing out of place… His nausea increased from the movement of his head, and he thought dazedly, '_Bathroom.'_

Somehow, mostly through force of will, Harry managed to get to the nearest bathroom without waking anyone. His whole body felt battered from the short walk as he finally slid the bolt to the heavy old door shut, sinking down to the cold tile floor. He sat in silence in the musty bathroom, willing his unsteady bile and disorientation down. Two minutes passed in the dingy bathroom…five minutes… seven minutes, and his vertigo eased up enough for him to stand slowly without fear of falling.

Rising on unsteady legs, Harry grasped the edge of the cracked porcelain sink. He raised his tired face to see just how terrible lo—

"GAH!" He slapped a hand over his mouth as he stumbled backwards frantically, staring at the strange image in the spotted mirror in alarm—why was their a girl in the mirror! He blinked hard and removed his hand—the girl did the same. He waved a shaking hand—the girl did so as well. Though tired, completely disoriented and terrified, Harry knew how mirrors worked.

He approached the visage with his wand raised in his trembling fist. He looked at the girl—pale and terrified, startling green eyes and irritated lightning bolt scar bright against her pale skin and long black hair, quaking in enormous flannel pajamas-, then down at his own body. Everything was slimmer, more feminine; petite little hands and feet, skinny arms and legs. In a daze of confusion, Harry jerked at the front of his pajama top, looking down it to find- "OH GOD-" He shoved a fist into his mouth, muffling his screams of horror and did what he knew had to come next. Pajama pants and underwear met the ground, sealing his worst nightmare. He grasped his head in his hands and sank to the floor, whimpering slightly passed his firmly closed lips. He rocked there on the dirty bathroom floor, his heart and thoughts racing like a bullet burrowing through his brain. '-_How cloud this be happening he was a boy not a girl it was wrong oh God what about those things on his chest they are there and was it Voldemort what if the others find out is it real and oh god oh god Oh God Oh God OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD-' _

Unable to hold it back, the acidic remnants from whatever he had last consumed jumped up his esophagus, demanding exit. The sickly sweet, grayish substance spurted forth messily past his fingers and he gagged, retching helplessly. He crawled, vomiting piteously, to the grimy toilet, and lay halfway across it as he finished. His stomach muscles finally finished contracting, and he breathed as calmly as he could through his nose, not letting himself process any more until he regained some energy.

He panted, and eventually breathed evenly. He struggled, finally sat himself atop the toilet, and let himself attempt to deal with the facts here-'_I know I am a-a girl now. I'm female. I can't deny it. Maybe forever, maybe(hopefully) not. Alright. I somehow turned into a girl the first time sleeping after my vision of Voldemort… He had to have done it. It's too much of a coincidence. But __why__? Maybe…maybe it's part of this whole 'weapon' thing—that's it! He's turning __me __into a __weapon__ b-by possessing me and…well, I don't know what being a girl has to do with that, but he is a genius, so it's no wonder I don't understand.' _Harry let his—scratch that, _her_ head fall into her shaking hands, overwhelmed, '_I can't let them see me like this, it's probably part of his plan! I can't endanger the others, and I wouldn't want them to see me like this under any circumstances—I have to leave. Now.' _

Harry stood on wobbly legs, bound and determined, Phineas' warning be damned. She couldn't go through her original plan, which would involve going near the others to retrieve her things—she would have to leave with what she had on her at the moment, though it would pain her to leave the few material possessions she treasured behind. This also meant no money nor change of clothes, which left her with few options as to where she could run to…

Harry shakily pulled her pajama pants and underwear back on, clutched her wand tightly, and stepped softly into the hall. Now that she had finally emptied her unsteady stomach, Harry found her disequilibrium greatly reduced, and she walked fairly noiselessly through the dark house to the kitchen. She inched around the doorframe, relived to see it empty of any of the house's frequent visitors. Harry stilled in front of the old stone fireplace, not wanting to leave but knowing what staying would mean for those she loved so dearly. It was with a stronger grip that she grabbed a handful of sparkling powder from the jar on the mantelpiece. Now, where to go…? Everyone would expect her to go to familiar yet distant places—Diagon alley, Private Drive, etc…but, what if she hid in the open, yet where no one but her could get to…? Her mind set, she tossed the powder into the low-burning fire and said clearly yet softly, "Hogwarts kitchen," and stepped through the high green flames.

Harry was quite glad that her stomach emptied itself before her floo trip, as she felt her throat muscles contract on instinct at the unnerving swirling of her body through the warm passageways of the floo network. Harry felt some skin be ground from the palms of her hands as she lurched out of the fireplace into a bustling kitchen full of elves. Of course, they'd be making breakfast for any of the insanely early risers, Harry remembered with a groan. The elves nearest him paused in their movement, and Harry, thinking of no better excuse, blurted out in his new, squeaky voice, "I-I was really hungry, sorry!"

The mass of elves grinned and pounced as one, practically burying the girl under plates of bacon and eggs. "J-Just some toast is fine!" she chocked out.

"Of course Miss!" came the answer, multiplied a dozen times over in varying shrill notes. Harry collected her stack of toast and practically flew out the door, calling breathlessly behind her, "Thank you!"

She shut the painting of the silver fruit bowl behind her and stared down at the stack of toast, realizing that she'd need something to eat eventually… Giving her head a shake, her tousled black hair flying around madly, she remembered her objective, and took off cautiously at a light run to her 'hiding place.'

She ran, and as she did so, she realized that her feet were bare against the freezing stone floor. Well, she couldn't exactly help that now could she? Luck must have been shining on her, as she did not run into a single living or dead thing on her journey. That certainly didn't stop her nerves from urging her to sprint the last corridor, though. She dashed inside the blessed room, shut the door and let out a long-held breath. She had almost made it, now all she needed to do was-

"What are you doing here?" came a miserable voice to her left, making her jump about a foot in the air. Crap, she forgot about Myrtle! The constantly depressed ghost that haunted the second floor girl's bathroom, how could she forget? Ah, she better not have run out of lies…

"Ah, uhm, Nearly-Headly Nick wanted to see you about something! He sent me since I was up so early, yeah!" she invented wildly.

Myrtle fully surprised Harry by giving a giggle and asking shyly, "Really? I'm needed?"

Though she felt a twinge of remorse for the tears she knew her fib would cause the ghost, Harry had no choice, "Yes, he says it's a bit urgent, so you'd better hurry. He's in the, uhm, Great Hall."

Myrtle giggled again and took off through the door. Harry let out another shaky breath—would she ever catch a break? She approached the last sink, the one she thought she'd parted ways with forever just a few years ago. Kneeling down, she stared at the metal snake on the pipe connected to the sink, imagining it to be alive…"_Open!"_ came out the hiss. The wall behind the sink opened, and heaving a sigh, Harry tucked his wand, glasses, and tied-up napkin of toast under his pajama top before awkwardly climbing in the stone chute.

Another breath, and away she went, down, down, down, down… She landed in the stone chamber much as she had in the kitchen only minutes earlier—poorly and with no grace at all. This time it was her bottom and the soles of her feet that bore the grunt of her landing. She was tired, hungry, hurt, and covered in a combination of slime and vomit, but at least she—and more importantly, everyone else—was _safe._

She let herself lay there for a moment, relishing the word—all of them, even those so close, were safe from her, and through her, Voldemort. She had given thought to the Room of Requirement, but the DA was using it, and she could let herself out to attack others if she wanted… Down here, no one could reach her unless they knew about the entrance and could speak Parseltongue, and she herself could not get out without assistance(like how Fawkes has rescued her the last time, when she was still a male…). In a flash of acute pain in the pit of her stomach, the realization that she was female hit her once more. How could it have happened…? Why? The questions circled her mind with no answer in sight. She knew better than to attempt to turn herself back into a male—she's probably end up transforming herself into some sort of genderless slug or something. She'd just have to face the fact the she was a female now… until she either died or someone found her. It was more likely that she would die, she thought with a grim ghost of a smile. Well, at least everyone would be safe…

Oo0o Line Break Folks Oo0o

(Scene: Grimmauld Place)

It was with a particularly cheery mood that Fred and George woke that morning—perhaps because they knew their father was going to be just fine, or the fact that Christmas was so close, or maybe because they had devised such a wonderful prank to cheer up their favorite green-eyed friend (and piss the hell out of their baby brother).

Rubber wands in hand and dungbombs in their pockets, the two early-risen red-haired devils cracked identical grins. This was going to be _epic._

"CRACK!" the twins apparated in the bedroom of one little brother and one friend.

"AIIII ATTACK!" George and Fred screamed in unison, pouncing through the pitch-black onto Harry's bed. Twenty seconds of flailing their rubber wands and flinging dungbombs in every direction while Ron cursed loudly, and a realization was made.

"…Harry ain't in bed, is he George?" Fred asked flatly.

"…No he is not, Fred, no he is not." George deadpanned.

"ATTACK THE FRECKLED ONE!"

4 minutes of red-headed chaos later, and Mrs. Weasley had flung on her bathrobe to go and 'discipline' her children.

The door to Ron and Harry's shared room flew open, revealing Lucifer in an apron—or, at least that was what they later swore—"_What in the world do you think you're doing, making a ruckus like this at 6 am?"_

Quick to put the flames out of their mother's eyes, George spoke up first, "You see mum, Harry looked so down yesterday—"

"and we thought we'd pay him a visit—"

"To cheer him up!"

Mrs. Weasley peered around the wrecked room, stating with a slight frown, "But, Harry isn't in there – you didn't scare him off, did you?" Her eyebrows met in an angry line.

Ron, finally pushing himself up from underneath one of the twins, answered grumpily, "He wasn't here when _they_ came in and—"

"What?" Mrs. Weasley asked sharply, "He's gone?"

Fred held up his hands, "Hey, he's probably in the kitchen trying to make himself some breakfast—he didn't eat dinner last night!"

But the dark-haired boy was not in the kitchen. Slightly worried, the bathrooms were next checked; "Maybe he had violent diahrrea?" George suggested lightly, a rap to the back of his skull soon following. Still, Harry was not found, and the four Weasleys did what they all dreaded—woke Sirius. A whole-house search for the missing boy was launched in the immense edifice, looking under every bed and in every wardrobe, yet yielded no results. Tensions rose when, at 10 am, it was determined that Harry was no longer in Grimmauld Place.

The whole house sat in the Kitchen, white-faced and practically dripping with worry.

"What if he's just in his invisibility cloak?" Ginny spoke up from where she sat, curled in her chair in much the same way she had been the night Mr. Weasley had been attacked.

Sirius shook his shaggy head slowly, sighing, "No, we went so far as to do human-detecting spells in every room. He's not in the house."

"On the roof?" Fred asked half-heartedly.

Another sigh, this time from Molly, "He would have had to exit one of the windows or the front door, and they all have spells on them to alert us when they're opened."

"Why would he leave?" Sirius asked quietly, almost as if to himself.

Sidelong glances between the Weasley children, but no answers—Harry wouldn't leave them for _that_, would he…? Surely not.

Sirius rose from his seat, looking time-worn and miserable, "We have to alert Dumbledore and the rest of the Order."

Molly, the only other adult in the room, rose as well, "I'll send out the message to gather a meeting, you can go alert Phineas." Sirius nodded and loped out of the room.

Molly raised her wand, "_Expecto Patronum!" _a bright, silver mouse leaping from her wandtip. "Send out the alert—gather for an emergency meeting." She told the little white creature, her befuddled children watching on.

END of Ch 1

A/N: Wellllll, how'd it go? OuO I have quite a few chapters written already, and they are quit… well, realistic :D I want to make this true to the HP series instead of the usual trashy gender-bender fics. Yes, a complete explanation will happen in the story down the road. Well, leave me some comments and I'll put the next chapter up tomorrow, m'kay? (will update daily until I get rid of the almost 15,000(and counting) words of already-written text).

LEAVE ME WORDS AND STUFF! D:


	2. Chapter 2

For **disclaimer, warning, important info, and summary**, please see Ch 1!

_**Ch-Ch-Ch-Changing Ch 2**_

_Subtitle: Hidey-Hole Hell_

(Grimmauld Place)

The Weasley children had been ushered into an upstairs drawing room with orders to stay there if they wanted to remain unskinned as the first of the Order members arrived.

"But we want to help find Harry!" Ron burst out at his frantic mother.

"You can best help Harry by STAYING HERE! I'll tell you what we know AFTER the meeting!" She snarled, shutting the door with a snap.

Running a hand through her hair anxiously, Mrs. Weasley made her way quickly down to the kitchen.

Reaching the lowest level of the house, the Weasley mother walked into a room full of anxious witches and wizards, all sitting or standing at the hefty table in the middle of the room, whispering anxiously. No sooner had she taken her seat, and Dumbledore entered through the fireplace. The movement stopped, and the man peered gravely over his spectacles at them all.

"Harry is still missing I presume?" He asked Molly softly.

There was an uproar in the dingy kitchen.

"Potter 's missing?"

"Harry!"

"Not 'Arry!"

"Did the brat finally run away?"

"Where could he have gone?"

"Some one kidnapped him!"

"Did the twins maybe kill him?"

"Silence, please," Dumbledore raised a hand, and all quieted once more.

"Yes, there's no sign of him." Molly answered Dumbledore's previous question with a sniffle.

The old man sighed deeply, asking this time of Sirius, "Are any of his possessions gone? Even a trivial thing?"

Sirius, looking haunted, answered hollowly, "From what we can tell, nothing is missing except his glasses and wand. And the pajamas he was wearing. Nothing else."

Moody, eye spinning grimly in its scarred socket, growled, "That points more to abduction than a simple run-away; the boy would take his possessions with him."

Dumbledore rose to his feet and waved his wand in a complex web of swishes and jabs, almost as if tracing a picture in the air, murmuring Latin words under his breath as the room crackled with his magic. Lowering his wand, he stared at the air in front of him, as if reading it. Looking slightly disconcerted, he sat back down with a sigh and stated, "There was an unusually large and long-lasting burst of magic in Harry's room from precisely 3:30 am to4:30 am. No one besides Order members entered the house, nor does it look as if there was any sort of struggle. His presence left Grimmauld Place at 5:35 and 20 seconds, without exiting the windows or door. It does not appear that he was kidnapped, but nor does it seem as though he ran away." Dumbledore steepled his fingers and peered penetratingly at the shell-shocked Order members.

"Wait," Tonks spoke up out of the heavy silence, "That means the only way he could have left would be by Portkey, apparition, or even the Floo Network!"

"Obviously," came the sardonic voice of Snape.

Tonks fumed in her seat, and Moody snarled down the table, "What _I _find _obvious_ is that an Order member removed him from the premises! " He glared daggers down at the rigid positonsmaster, continuing with sarcasm, "Now who do we know who hates the boy, is an Order member, and is conniving enough to convince Potter to leave without a struggle in his nightclothes and with only his wand?"

Snape hissed through his teeth, "Well now, isn't this rich coming from a man who spent nearly a year in a trunk while an imposter did just that?"

"You slimy litt-"

"ENOUGH!" Dumbledore's voice rang through the chilly kitchen. A moment, and then-"I trust everyone gathered here, but we cannot rule out the possibility that an Order member could have played a hand in Harry's disappearance. As Tonks stated, Harry had to have left by floo, apparition, or portkey. Now, if Harry left by his own choice, as unlikely as it seems given he left nearly all his worldly possessions, he would have to have left by floo; he knows not how to create a portkey, and neither does he know how to apparate. Therefore," Dumbledore pointed from one person to another, "Molly, Charlie, and Dedalus, search all the places Harry would have thought of to take the floo to, both magical and Muggle. Have Arabella help you with the Private Drive area. Bill, please keep a close watch on Harry's Gringotts account. Minerva, organize the ghosts, paintings, teachers, and house elves to search for the boy—don't let Umbridge suspect anything. Hagrid, please search the Forbidden Forrest and Grounds." The six nodded solemnly.

Turning, the long-haired man pointed out others, assigning them their tasks, "If Harry did not leave by his own free will, then we have a much harder task at hand. Severus, you know what to keep an ear out for. Mundungus, use all contacts you have to get any information. All others, scour your respective areas and gather as much information as possible—Moody will lead you. Remember, all of you…we must keep Harry's disappearance a secret, so steps in information suppression must be taken, especially in regards to the ministry, understood?" Nods all around, "Dismissed!" Everyone rose to their feet, eager to find the boy…

"Sirius, Remus, a word please!" Dumbledore called to the two retreating backs. Looking puzzled and anxious, the men remained at the table. The last Order members left, leaving the three men alone at the quiet table.

"You wanted something?" Remus spoke.

Dumbledore stared at the wand in his hands for a few moments before answering softly, "I require a few things of you two. First, to keep track of all the information regarding Harry's whereabouts and all regarding his disappearance. Secondly, to go through his belongings, see exactly what he had on him—he is the kind to hide things. Thirdly…" here he sighed tiredly, looking every bit his age, "I need you to…affectively, interrogate and keep tabs on the Weasley children and Miss Granger—his friends always keep his secrets, even if sometimes not for the better."

Remus stared incredulously at the wearied Headmaster, "You really think… the _children_ know what happened to Harry?"

Dumbledore replied simply, "Maybe. Maybe not. At the very least, they were the last around him, and thus knew how he was feeling. It's the best lead we have." Remus nodded a bit miserably.

Dumbledore stood to take his leave, and Sirius, silent up to that point, asked sadly, "You… don't think we'll find him anytime soon, do you?"

Dumbledore turned to look at the dark man with softened eyes, "With our best efforts, will should find him soon… but my instinct tells me we may have a bit of a wait."

Oo0o Line Break Folks Oo0o

(Chamber of Secrets)

Four hours later, and the toast was demolished. Finally giving in, Harry was forced to figure out how to urinate, mentally apologizing to the ground 2 inches below her. Bored and tired, she traveled farther into the underground passage, her lit wand held aloft without fear now that the monster that once dwelled within was long dead, eventually finding herself at a familiar scene—the entrance to the actual Chamber of Secret. Harry, long past emotionally drained, commanded the lively looking stone snakes on the walls to open, and walked through…

Harry spent the entire day wandering listlessly around the chamber, clambering over the snake that once tried to kill her, kicking small animal bones, and trying not to think of what the others were doing at that moment. Eventually she convinced herself to rest, since she wouldn't be able to get out of her hiding place even if she _was _possessed by Voldemort. The chambers were a bit chilly, but, as Hermione had once told her when she was still a 'he,' after you go so far underground, the temperature stabilizes to a decent 64 degrees farenheight, give or take. So Harry dropped to the ground by a random pillar and tugged her pants off, using them as a pillow.

She dreamt, unsurprisingly, of the reoccurring dream that had been plaguing her for months now—the hallway, the door that would not open…

Harry tried to sleep as long as possible, an impressive 10 hours, and was finally forced to wake due to the pressure of her bladder. Reliving herself in some far-off corner(and with more accuracy), she returned to her designated pillar and pants, pulling them half-heartedly back on and sinking to the ground. Her stomach rumbled furiously at her, and she frowned at it. She knew she'd probably starve, if it weren't for one thing that she knew she had to fall back on—"Dobby!" she called out, hoping it would still work in her female form.

A moment passed in tense silence, and then a much-welcomed 'CRACK!' was heard throughout the echoing chamber as the house elf appeared. "Did yous call Dobby Master Ha-" Dobby began excitedly, only to stop mid-sentence as he got a good look at the one who had summoned him.

"Master Harry?" The elf inquired uneasily, taking a step backwards in clear distrust.

Harry immediately attempted to get the situation under control, "Yes! I know it may not look like me, but it really is Dobby, you have to believe me! I'm still Harry! See?" Harry lifted the tangled bangs from her forehead to show Dobby the still-present lightning-bolt scar.

Dobby's face broke out into an eye-watering smile, and he squealed, "It is Master Harry Potter!" He danced happily around Harry, eyes shimmering with happiness, "What can Dobby do for yous? And…why is you here?" The elf stopped his happy-dance to look around the chamber with worried eyes.

Harry had thought out her lie long before, one guaranteed to win the elf over, and recited it smoothly, "Well Dobby, I'm here because this has been deemed the safest place for me by Dumbledore and the Order. I had a run-in with Voldemort. He was about to do me in when a curse of his misfired, turning me into a girl, and the Order whisked me away; now I'm in hiding here to throw him off my scent. The Order and Dumbledore are going to let everyone think I've gone missing so he can't find me—I'm completely **safe** down here. The good guys will act all upset at my disappearance, but they'll just be acting, so you need to act like you don't know anything about me as well, even to the good guys," Harry gave the awe-struck elf a hefty wink, "I need you to bring me things I'll need to live down here without being conspicuous—we don't want to let anyone know I'm down here, or I might die! (Dobby shook his head violently) Do you think you can do it Dobby?" Harry regarded the elf solemnly.

"YES! Dobby can do _anything_ for Harry Potter! What will yous be needing Mast—er, Miss Harry Potter?" The elf beamed.

Harry smiled back at the elf, grateful that the wonderful little guy didn't see through the lie, "I'll need a blanket and pillow. Uhm, water and food ofcourse. Oh, and a chamber pot and toile tissue would be much appreciated too. But you have to listen closely Dobby—you can't bring me these things everyday, nor in big amounts, because then people or other house elves might notice. Just come by when you can, alright? Can you do that for me?" Harry gave the elf a winning smile as he nodded his head in the affirmative.

Having a sudden thought, Dobby squeaked, "What about yous clothes?"

Harry shook her head sadly, "Nope, I'm afraid not Dobby. People would notice missing clothes, and they would just accio them back—that'd expose me for sure! I'll make do with these." Harry indicated the soiled, baggy pajamas slipping off her frame.

Dobby inclined his round head in acknowledgement, stating cheerfully, "Dobby will do exactly as Miss Harry Potter says to keep hers safe, or else he will shut his head in the oven door until he hemorrhages!"

Harry twitched and quickly amended the elf's self-destructive statement, "N-no, please don't hurt yourself Dobby! When you hurt yourself, uhm, it makes my heart hurt, understand?" O.O Where had that come from…?

The elf's eyes watered over, and he wailed, "Miss Potter is such a wonderful friend to poor Dobby!" The sobbing elf disappeared with another loud snap.

Harry let out a sigh of relief—everything was in order, and she focused on surviving in the present, not on the questionable future, down in her new 'home.'

(Ginny's Room)

The Weasley children, plus Hermione, were sitting in the youngest's room, going over the same circular debate as usual: Harry.

"I still think he's in Austrailia," came George's would-be airy voice from the bed, "no-one would think to look there for him!"

Hermione, numerous books and maps strewn out before her on the threadbare carpet, snorted, "You're still on about that? Unbelievable… "

"Yes George, you silly-head, he's much more likely to be in India!" Fred sighed melodramatically.

Though usually considered quite inappropriate in such morbid discussions, no one reprimanded the twins for their joking; it was their way of coping, just as it was Hermione's to pour over any bit of information she could reach, Ron's to constantly reassure everyone that everything would be fine, or Ginny's to encourage them to think of all possibilities.

"Did you tell Sirius to check Muggle London?" Hermione asked distractedly as she unfolded a map of the subways.

Ginny sighed from her corner, "Yes, but then he started it again—"

"Not again~" Ron groaned, putting down his box of Bertie-Bott's Every Flavored Beans, "He did me again just the other day! 'Ron, what did Harry last say to you? Why not notice he was gone sooner? Have you had any fights recently? -–"

"—'Did you kill Harry and send his body to New Zealand?'" Fred finished lamely, "They suspect us, all the kids. It's ridiculous—sure, we might maim him or break a few bones, but honestly!"

"Well," Hermione sighed agitatedly, "If they think we had something to do with it, our efforts to help find him should prove us quite innocent, wouldn't you think?" She marked an intersection on the map with her wand, making it glow ruby-red.

"They're all a bit retarded, eh?" George said lightly, receiving an unexpected snicker from Ginny. Quirking an eyebrow at his youngest sibling, he asked innocently, "What? You don't doubt their mental capabilities at least a smidge? Thinking Mundungus is a genius now?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and pointed silently at the closed door, where the shadow of boots could be seen under the worn doorframe. All eyes met in a silent exchange of intent; act neutral, don't bring any suspiscion.

Continuing on as if nothing had happened, Ginny replied with a sigh, "Well, I wouldn't say Dung is a genius, but at least he's not feeding us ridiculous lies about Harry. I mean, c'mon, did you hear what Tonks told me when I asked her what she found out?"

Ron spoke up unexpectedly, "The one that Harry might have turned into a cat and ran off, or that he found prostitution appealing and became a pimp?" Snorts and laughs filled the room, quickly dying down into a depressing atmosphere.

"…I miss him." Hermione voiced quietly.

An unspoken consensus met her statement. The figure at the door moved away to report his not unusual findings to his wolfish colleague.

In an upstairs drawing room, information charts spread on the walls and furniture, Remus Lupin sat pouring through a report. A sigh for greeting, the ex-prisioner flung himself into an armchair, gazing moodily at the stained rug at his feet.

"Well?" the werewolf asked, looking up from his parchment, though with no real hope in his expression.

"The usual," Sirius expelled a deep breath, looking up now towards the ceiling, "Talking nonsense to each other to cheer them up. Speculating on places Harry might be—they seem not to realize just how many hiding places there are in any given area." The man grit his teeth.

Recognizing the darkening atmosphere, Remus quickly amended, "Of course they don't realize how hard it is; they're kids. But they know we're doing our best, and they only want to help find their friend."

"I know, but…" A sigh. Sirius' face took on a look less of anger and more of horror as he continued, "Tonks let it slip to them that prostitution might be involved—God, to hear them blow it off so lightly… he could be forced into sexual slavery—he's so small for his age, and-and you know darn well that there are plenty of wealthy men out there who would want the famous Harry Potter, to-t-to…Oh God…" Face fell into hands, and he was quiet for a moment.

Remus set his parchment aside, and came over to sit beside his friend, stating carefully, "I doubt that Harry was taken for that reason, if he was taken at all. Information would have been leaked to Severus or Mundungus if it was anything like that."

Sirius' face took on a hard set, jaw rigid as he spat, "I don't believe a word that _Snivellous _has to say about my Godson! Thumbing his nose and saying he knew he'd run off in a hissy fit—I just want to–-arrgh!"

The figure outside the drawing room door, unbeknownst to the two inside, held back a snort as they argued over the fate of the boy. He moved silently away, his robes billowing as they always seemed to. He would be the one to find the Potter brat—if only to make that Black thank him on bended knee. No, not because he was worried, certainly not.

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(Chamber of Secrets)

Harry came to lament her poor cleaning skills, looking sadly at her now slightly-burnt pajama top after another failed 'scourgify' attempt. It had been 10 days since she had successfully 'run away,' and she was proud to say that she was doing quite well, all things considering.

Dobby, true to his word, managed to sneak Harry a pillow and blanket that same night Harry had called on him, and kept Harry well-enough fed on bits of food—any more and it'd be suspicious, Harry would always remind the elf, knowing all too well how to deal with constant hunger. The chamber pot and toilet tissue were a Godsend for the poor girl, and she fervently thanked her lucky stars that Dobby had no trouble emptying it for her everyday.

Life was exceptionally boring and admittedly melancholy down in her little chamber of secrets, though her lifeline, Dobby, made sure to bring her things to liven up the days—thrown out pieces of parchment, quills and ink made for great fun in covering every inch in doodles, playing word games, and attempting origami. The elf even managed to bring her old, abandoned books that he assured Harry wouldn't be missed—Harry was never so happy to have something to read, even if it was on wizarding homes and gardens. On Christmas, Dobby brought her a pair of socks and a tree-ornament—Harry smiled and hugged the elf, telling him they were lovely.

She did her best to keep herself busy as time wore on, because when she had a moment of inactivity, her thoughts would wander down dangerous paths… about the others. She would become more depressed than she could ever remember being as a boy, and her thoughts would take on a dark aspect that scared her, made her do her darndest to keep active. So she practiced spells, skipped the entire length of the chamber, went on 'safaris' through the maze of tunnels, learned to cartwheel, belted out every song she knew in the forever-echoing passageways; anything to keep her from those terrifying thoughts, even if she would have never been caught dead doing them 'before.' Her pajamas became tattered as time wore on, and she ended up ripping them to fit better and allow her more free movement in her arms and legs. She kept herself active, always—to the point which Dobby would watch her, worry coloring his face…

END of Ch 2

A/N: Well, here's chapter 2! Let me know what you think(in a civil way, of course). Did I mention this is my first HP story? Yeaaaahhhhh…

*About Harry's appearance—will bed explained in greater detail later, and the reasons behind it. Right now, Harry could care less about how he/she looks, as would you.

*Oh, and a reviewer made an interesting point: _why not go to Dumbledore for help?_ Very good point! Well, Harry wants to keep everyone safe from himself, thinking that Voldemort could take control at any point, so coming into contact with the man would only bring more danger—think of the not too distant moment in Dumbles' office where Harry felt compelled to attack him. Also, Dumbledore has not been very kind to Harry as of late—not looking at him, keeping him in the dark—which would only reinforce Harry's want to stay away. Lastly, at the time Harry ran away, he was under a tremendous amount of physical, emotional, and mental stress…this stress, which does _not_ just disappear, leads to rash choices. I hope this explains it! :D

*About possible future slash: please realize this fic is first and foremost about the _reasons_ for and _effects of_ the gender switch in the HP story line. Not romance. And, especially not ridiculous romance. No DM/HP, SS/HP, RW/HP, nor any other crazy pairings e.e That's just scarrrrry~ _IF_ there is ever any actual pairing with Harry, then it will play a minimal role(far off in the story) and will, hopefully, be logical. Most gender-switch fics are focused on pairings—the only reason some people write them is to pair up their favorite characters, which is ridiculous. Of course, in girl form, Harry will become aware of males and develop awkward crushes, which will be fun~ XD

*If you guys have any other questions or suggestion, feel free! I don't bite… unless you have a high sugar content XD


	3. Chapter 3

For disclaimer and whatnot, please see Ch 1. Also, have the decency to leave a review.

_**Ch-Ch-Ch-Changing Ch 3**_

_Subtitle: frenzy_

(Hogwarts, Great Hall)

Christmas break had ended five days ago, and things at Hogwarts went back to their usual pace—except for the continued absence of one Harry Potter. The students who went to visit their families during the holidays came back via train, expecting to see the be-scarred young man in the castle—the students who stayed at the castle did the opposite, waiting to see him come back from the train. This obviously led to some confusion among the student body.

The Weasley children and Hermione had been besieged with torrents of questions, and they all answered with the same, memorized line given to them by Dumbledore: "Harry went on a foreign exchange program with an America Wizarding school." It was not exactly unheard of in Hogwarts—though, they usually went to other European schools and were usually from Ravenclaw... then again, this was the famous Harry Potter they were talking about, so of course he'd be given special privileges. The students swallowed the lie with ease, especially when Dumbledore announced it the same night the new term started, though no one seemed to notice the deadened look in the Headmaster's eyes.

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(Grimmuald Place)

Severus Snape sat, tired beyond all belief, at the table in the kitchen of his rival's home. Hiding the fact that Harry Potter had been missing for 17 days- from not only a man who was at once the most powerful dark wizard in the world and an extremely skilled legilimens, but also from a while horde of Death Eaters—was an incredibly demanding task. Everyday it seemed less likely that they'd find the Boy That Might be Alive. Not that he was worried about the little snotrag.

The ex-Death Eater leaned his head back, willing his cramped neck muscles to loosen, mulling over the whole chilling absurdity of the situation—the boy seemed to have simply vanished, and whether by choice or not was still up in the air. So many of the Order leaned towards a kidnapping, but he or the filthy Mundungus would _know_ if the boy was taken—none of it made sense! Snape, so ardent that the boy had just run off, now was faced with the fact that he might not have. But, Potter was not the type to survive on his own; he relied on others to help him in a pinch, and from what they gathered, no one had seen the boy since that fated night. And the boy hadn't even took his precious belongings, belongings which would have helped him if he were to run away. It was all too confusing. Speaking of those wretched belongings…

The dark-haired man stood wearily from his chair, knowing he should get his task here done and over with. Having been given permission from old Dumbles to give Potter's things a once-over, he truthfully did know what he expected to find—just that he so desperately _wanted _to find something—besides, he knew how the conniving little brat's mind worked… He reached the destined room far sooner than expected, and gave his aching head a shake before knocking boredly on the heavy door.

The door burst open, a wild-looking Black looking terrifyingly hopeful and babbling, "Did you find Ha- oh," his whole form stooped, and his facial expression morphed into one of worn-out contempt, "It's you." Sirius stood back to let the other man in, disdain staining the air, and gestured vaguely to the pile of painstakingly-arranged items in a corner of the room. "And," Sirius' voice growled from the door, his old spirit flaring back up for a moment, "I know Dumbledore gave you permission to go through his things in private, but that doesn't mean I won't tear you limb from limb if you damage any of his belonging!" Snape nodded curtly as the man gave him one last glare and slammed the old door shut—he couldn't really say anything to hurt the man more than he already was anyway…

Sighing as he approached the practical sanctuary to his enemy's godson, he knew this would be a long night.

…

It proved to be an ironically short night, seeing as the first thing he inspected led him to the breakthrough he had been so desperate for. It was the photo album the oaf Hagrid had given the boy in his first year. Admittedly, Snape choose to look at it first to see pictures of his Lily—Lily, who had trusted him, who he had betrayed… He opened the album, looking at any picture with the flaming-haired woman intently. He turned the fifth page, which bore only one large picture, and noticed that it felt oddly… heavy. One picture shouldn't weigh down a page so much. His black eyebrows knitted together as he examined the glossy covering, under which was a photo, and under which was two light pieces of cardboard, plastic on the other side for more pictures. He slid a finger into the plastic envelope and between the cardboard, feeling his heart quicken when he felt a piece of folded-up parchment wedged carefully between the cardboard. He pulled out the parchment, recognizing it in an instant—Potter's map of Hogwarts! The Weasley brat, Ron, had told them that Harry and him had lost it months ago in their dorm, yet here it was! Why would the boy have hidden it, though? Was he perhaps at Hogwarts?—but, they had checked the whole of the building and grounds many times over, and if the boy were to have gone there, he would have surely taken the map!

…Perhaps a peek wouldn't hurt. He was a good spy, and had learned pathetically easily how to make the thing work, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," he grumbled at the parchment, feeling sickened when he saw his old tormentors' hand-written introductions. He lazily scanned the admittedly amazing map, not really expecting to find the missing boy. He noted with some amusement that filch appeared to be stuck in a suit of armor, courtesy of Peeves, and that Myrtle was crying in her bathroom on the second floor. Odd, there was a little arrow next to one of the sinks… frowning, Snape tapped the arrow with his wand, raising his eyebrows as the parchment expanded, showing what appeared to be an underground maze of passages and chambers—it had to be the Chamber of Secrets, he realized his a jolt.

He followed the bizarre network to it's end, the largest chamber of all—and, strangely enough, there appeared to be a person in the room, he squinted to read the tiny hand-writing…Harry Potter. Wait. _Harry-HARRY POTTER! _Wahdalitheoaeo aligao asdfds ! His brain temporarily unavailable, the potionsmaster stared at the name, finally realizing with a start that the name was underlined for some reason— all the other names in the school, humor or not, dead or alive, were not underlined… what did it mean? His mental prowess returned with force, and the possibilities raced around his greasy mind; he'd been missing for two and a half weeks and could very well be dying of thirst or hunger or injuries, or perhaps he was already dead, or maybe he was being attacked, or – Stop. The man breathed in and out for a moment, calming himself down and going over the facts—he knew where Potter was, alive ( the map did not show dead people unless they were ghosts, and he was not the type to stay as a ghost, especially with his parents waiting for him…), and he knew how to get to him. What was stopping him? Ah, absolute worry and rage. And with that he stood and made his way quickly out of the room and to the floo.

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(Chamber of Secrets)

It was during her 17th day of self-imposed imprisonment that everything changed—the day was not so unlike the others; Harry had lately been feeling some mild stomach pain, so she had been exercising to take the edge off. She had climbed to the top of the gigantic statute of Salazaar Slytherin, who she now referred to as 'Joe,' managed to finally do a back flip, played hopscotch 14 times (Dobby had brought her a piece of chalk, and she used a rat's skull in place of a rock). It was when she was hopping past the number 5 that she realized that she was, somehow, wetting herself.

Cheeks flaming in embarrassment, she stopped and crossed over to her beloved chamber pot, squatting down to urinate—only, no urine flowed forth. How odd… Harry stood and looked down in puzzlement to find the source of the wetness against her thigh. Blood. Wait, that made no sense! She hadn't cut her thigh, she would remember, and investigating further, she found, to her utmost horror, that she was bleeding from _the inside._ Thick red blood flowed slowly down her thighs, and she did the logical thing—flipped out.

"O-OH MY GOD! I'M BLEEDING! _T-THINK I'M HEMMORHAGING_!" She screamed in pure panic, never having been given 'the talk' by the Durselys nor the school, and thus thinking she was dying. She hadn't felt this fear since the night she discovered she was a female. Tears streaked her face as she chocked on her sobs, afraid, alone, and not knowing what to do. She attempted to stop the flow of blood with toilet tissue, but it just kept coming and _coming. _

"O-Oh _God_, what do I do?" Harry whimpered, replacing her blood-stained underwear and shorts, curling up in a ball on her blanket. She couldn't go to Madam Pompfrey or a teacher; she couldn't _leave,_ and no one could get _in!_ Dobby… he would insist on getting help no matter what Harry said, determined to keep her 'safe.' She lay on the floor, crying as what had been a mild pain in her abdomen intensified a thousand fold, experiencing pain that spread from her uterus, down her legs, and up her back. The god-forsaken cramps, unbeknownst to her, forced out the blood and tissue and clots, soaking her bottom garments and leaving her miserably sticky. She was sure she was going to bleed to death, probably because Voldemort finally realized he could not use Harry as a weapon anymore or something along those lines.

Hours passed. She lay in the fetal position, clutching her abdomen and crying out occasionally. Dobby did not come. More time passed, and she waited for her food and water. Dobby did not come—it must have been one of those days when it was not safe for him to come. She whimpered some more and tired to sleep.

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(Hogwarts, Severus Snape's Office)

Snape, in a towering temper edged with worry, swept quickly through his office and out the door. Relieved that he had found the brat, though his condition was still unknown, he walked quickly through the corridors up to the second floor. That stupid Potter… he had better be alright, or else he couldn't kill him! Gritting his teeth he sped up, reaching the second floor girl's bathroom faster than he thought possible. He banged open the door, startling the sobbing Myrtle. Not pausing to give the ghost a second thought, Snape turned to the map still clenched in his hands.

He stared at he little dot representing him, and looked on in bewilderment as it took out a tiny minute wand and, pointing it at itslef, a tinsy speech bubble appearing that read '_Narro Serpent Lingua!' _Recognizing it as a temporary translation spell for snake-speak, aka Parsleongue, Snape quickly performed the spell on himself. Looking once more at the map, he saw another speech bubble appear: 'Open!'

Slightly disbelieving, Snape looked around furtively as he stood at the sink, and called out in a hissing voice that surprised him, "Open!" The wall infront of the sink opened, revealing a stone chute. Closing his gaping mouth, Snape made a logical conclusion that most would not make in this situation: you can't climb back up a slide. So, it was with a simple flourish that he transfigured two sink taps into brooms and descended into the slippery chute…

The man landed with a slight stumble as he shot out of the slippery stone slide, completely disgusted with the whole affair. He stood and snorted in clear revulsion as he cast a _Scourgify _on his clothes. Looking once more at the map, he saw Potter to be exactly where he had been the last time he checked minutes ago—unmoving in the last chamber. Reminding himself to look on the angrier side of things so he wouldn't appear to be one of the boy's fanclub(he certainly wasn't), he took off at a jog down the dark, dank passageways, guaranteed to arrive at his destination without getting lost… at least Black and his friends were good for something…

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(Chamber of Secrets)

It seemed as though she had finally managed to doze off when she heard approaching footsteps from outside the always-open wall entrance to the chamber. Harry's heart leapt to her mouth, and she made to call out to Dobby, but- …Dobby never walked in through the entrance, and his appearance with a loud cracking noise would have alerted her… someone was in the chambers, she realized with a plummeting feeling in her gut.

Though rising caused a waterfall of blood to fall with the aid of gravity and a burst of mind-numbing pain, Harry lurched to her feet and dragged her blanket and pillow back behind the statue of 'Joe' before she could be spotted—the other things scattered across the chamber she did not have time to hide, though they were a dead giveaway. She knelt behind the statue and wrapped the bloodied blanket around her shaking shoulders—why couldn't they just wait until it was safe; after she bled to death!

The approaching sound of footsteps became louder, magnified by the water and stone, and a voice called out, making the blood not racing down Harry's legs freeze under her skin, "POTTER, you insufferable BRAT, come out here THIS INSTANT!"

Harry suppressed a whimper at the sound of the last person she wanted to find her in this state; Professor Snape. How the _heck _did he get down there! How did he know to come to the Chamber of Secrets? Why did it have to be _him_ that came?

"ANSWER ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU POTTER!" The man all but screamed, evidently pissed beyond belief. Harry pressed herself back into the little cave the enormous stone folds of Joe's robe afforded, hoping the professor would presume she was dead and go away.

"Potter, I know you're here," the man's voice took on a dangerous, silky tone as the footsteps stopped, probably in the middle of the chamber by the sounds of it- not at all a good sign, "your little map of the school, the one you hid in your family photo album-" Harry's heart constricted, did that mean Snape had the-"I have it here with me—by luck, I decided to examine your belongings more thoroughly than the mutt and wolf to see if you left any clues to your whereabouts… such a silly mistake, leaving something like that behind, don't you think?" Snape's voice was too light, he was going to start yelling again, she knew it-

"DAMMIT POTTER!" Right on cue. "Just WHAT do you think you've been doing down here! You RAN AWAY like a hissy-prissy little BABY, do you have ANY IDEA WHAT THE WIZARDING WORLD HAS GONE THROUGH TO FIND YOU!" Oh crap.

A deep breath, "…Potter, come out from behind that statue,(Harry let out a tiny squeak of fear) you insufferable primadonna, or so help me I will DESTROY YOU!" Like that would make her move…she simply snuggled back farther into the cervice.

…

"FINE!" the man roared, his loud, stomping footsteps coming closer and closer, he had to have reached the statue by now, and rounded the corner, only a matter of moments—

A livid face loomed at the crack of the pitch-black cave Harry had shoved herself into, invisible to the man, "Hello _Potter_," his potionsmaster seethed like a spitting cobra, "so nice to finally meet again." Harry kept her silence at the back of the tiny cave, wondering how much longer it'd take to bleed to death. The professor bared his teeth and barked, "Come OUT Potter!" Harry didn't say a word, didn't move a muscle.

The man's eyes narrowed in plain disgust, "You effing _coward_, even you pitiful _father_ would not hide." Harry knew this tactic—rile him up and get him(her) to do exactly as Snape wanted—but she would not respond to it this time, maintaining her silence.

There was a moment, and Snape let out a snarl of anger, placing one hand on a stone fold and reaching the other in towards Harry—"Is this…blood?" Snape asked quietly, taking his hand away from where Harry had smeared his forever-running blood on the stone. The man's eyes lost some of their anger, and he asked slowly, "Potter, are you hurt?"

Harry still did not answer.

A frustrated growl, "Idiot, if you're hurt then you need to come out so I can _help_ you! God, I'm not actually going to kill you! Don't make me repeat it: are you hurt?"

Harry let out a small whine, causing Snape to start, and finally answered in a whisper, "Y-yes."

Snape looked dubiously at the crevice, something seemed wrong here…"then come out already Potter, you damn fool!"

"No." She answered softly again.

The pallid man grit his teeth together, "'No'? You are _bleeding_ Potter, and a good deal by the looks of it," ah, he must have noticed the trail on the he floor…"come _out here!_"

"No. Just let me bleed to death, it'll happen soon, please…" Harry choked out.

Snape actually banged his fist on the stone, shooting his hand inside and grabbing madly for Harry, who, in return, scrabbled madly at his hand with her nails.

"Ugh, you _girl_ Potter, have some decency!" Snape grunted, reaching in and finally grabbing hold of Harry's right wrist…oh, how right the man was…

Unable to fight it, Harry was forcibly removed from his last sanctuary and thrust headlong into his own personal nightmare.

Snape whipped the little, thrashing form around to face him, barking, "NOW, where in the heck are you hurt Po-… Potter?" he ended faintly, the light from his wand illuminating the terrified, filthy girl before him.

A moment passed. He reached a hand forward and pushed back the hair from Harry's forehead, just starring at the world's most famous scar for the longest time until, "-well, you do seem to have gotten yourself into a fine pickle, mister Potter," the man attempted to sneer, though shock and some other unidentifiable emotion colored his voice.

Harry whimpered in return, the grip on her tiny wrist painful. Snape seemed to snap out of whatever revere he was in and loosened his grip, asking promptly ,"Where are you bleeding, Potter?" Harry blushed and looked at the ground at her bare feet.

"I asked you a question Potter," The silky voice returned, and the grip tightened slightly.

In utter turmoil emotionally and physically, she caved, "I-Inside me—I don't know how to stop it, it just keeps coming! I think I have i-internal bleeding o-or hemorrhaging!" Harry cried softly, clutching her abdomen once more, "It hurts so, so much…"

Looking startled, Snape released Harry's wrist and removed the girl's hands from her waist, "Dammit, you could bleed to death! Lift your shirt, let me see if there is bruising where impact occurred—how and when did this even happen?"

Harry, tears falling, lifted her tattered, torn pajama top up to her ribs to allow Snape's wand to scan over her aching abdomen, "I-I think it's too late, I started to bleed around 6 or 7 hours ago, for no apparent reason at all…"

Snape was beside himself as he crouched down, "What do you mean 6 hou- Oh…. You meant… _inside_ you…oh." he deadpanned in shock, finally noticing the rivulets of blood racing down the girl's legs from the prominent red stains adorning the front of her shorts. He stood and backed up a few paces.

Harry, not understanding, asked the disconcerted man, "W-why haven't I bled to death yet?"

Snape, not answering, abruptly turned around and placed his head in his heads, letting out a string of low curses. He stayed like that for a moment, then made as if to raise his wand, only to balk and lower it once more with a slight shake of his head. Harry, confused and still vey much in pain, asked, "Professor…? Do you know what's killing me?"

Snape closed his eyes and answered flatly, "You're not dying, Potter."

"W-what? But I-" Harry attempted to reason.

"I repeat, _not dying," _Snape snapped, apparently uncomfortable, "you are bleeding and in pain from your _period."_

Harry starred at Snape, clearly not understanding at all, "Period…? Is that a type of disease?"

Snape closed his eyes again as if praying for strength and asked, "You know what a menstrual cycle is, Potter? That ring any bells?" He received another blank look. "*sigh* I'm not the one to explain it to you, Madam Pompfrey is—"

"NO!" Harry's panicked yell interrupted, backing away from the man, "I'm NOT leaving!"

His bad mood seemingly reignited, Snape seized the panicky girl's wrist once more, and he growled, "You don't have a _choice_ in the matter Potter!"

Harry pushed desperately at the large hand incasing her tiny wrist, "No! I don't want them to die! They have to stay safe!"

Snape's eyes reduced to slits, "What garbage are you spewing?"

Harry yelled desperately, "Th-the others! The Weasleys, the Order, the school, everyone! They have to be protected, kept safe! I can't leave!" She attempted to scratch the hand off her wrist, frantic to save them all.

Snape seized both wrists, snarling into the petrified girl's face three inches from his own, "Do NOT scratch me, brat! Now, you will _calm down_ and explain what you mean before I stupify you and be done with it!"

Harry, having been a boy the vast majority of her life, had yet to experience exactly how much of a disadvantage she was at, being a tiny girl up against an angry, full-grown male. She stared up at him like a deer caught in headlights, unable to speak for a few moments. She struggled for a moment and regained her voice, stumbling over her quieter words, "I-I am a w-weapon. Voldemort w-will use m-me to gather i-infoma-mation and k-ki-kill the others, like he t-tried to with M-Mr. Weasley. I n-need to stay away, t-to keep them s-safe." she finished with quiet desperation infecting her voice, pleading with the incredulous black eyes above her.

Harry, expecting Snape to release her and leave (or possibly kill her—you know, for the sake of humanity), was quite surprised to say the least when Snape snorted down his long nose. It was hard to say what emotion was winning as they played across the man's pale face; anger, scorn, disbelief. Anger seemed to win as he bit out his words, "That's why you ran away? Unbelievable, Potter, and here I was thinking you had a few brain cells left in that stupid head of yours…" He trailed off, seeming very tired. Harry looked at the man properly, finally noticing the bags around his eyes and the strain of weeks of hard work—but, that did not stop her from trying to make the man see reason.

"You don't understand!" she burst out angrily, "You don't get it, do you? _I _was the snake that attacked Mr. Weasley! It's all my fault! It's Voldemort, using me as that 'weapon,' I figured it out! Voldemort is controlling me, he turned me into a freaking _girl! _You have to let me stay locked up down here, where no one can get me and I can't get out!" she stomped her foot for good measure.

Snape looked down at the stubborn girl, speaking slowly as if to a two-year old, "You seem to have a few gaping holes in your reasoning, Potter. First: you did not attack Arthur Weasley, since you were seen thrashing in your bed by a number of witnesses while the attack went on, and one cannot be 'possessed' from thousands of miles away, especially through the walls of Hogwarts. Second: you are _not _the 'weapon' that your idiot godfather told you of, and you should put it from your mind. Finally: If you haven't noticed, _I_ was able to get to you down here using a simple Parsletongue translation spell." Harry stared speechlessly at the front of the man's robes, desperately trying to think of any holes in his reasoning—

"What about me turning into a girl the first time I went to sleep after I had that vision? It had to be Voldemort, it's too much of a coincidence and proves that he has some sort of control over me! Try explaining that away!" She exploded at the man.

Snape paused for a moment before answering slowly, "That seems very unlikely, seeing as there is no feasible benefit for him in turning you into a female."

"It could have been a test to see how much control he has over me." Harry rebutted swiftly.

His hands were otherwise occupied, but if he had use of one Snape would surely be pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Deciding that he had to appeal to Potter's obvious distress over this last concern to get them out of the godforsaken chamber, he said lightly, "Well, as unlikely as it seems, I'm sure a genius like Dumbledore and medical expert such as Madam Pompfrey could surely give you an answer, and maybe even _reverse it._"

Harry wavered—what if they could give her an answer—they were intelligent adults and experts in their fields, and what if they _could_ reverse it…?

Snape fought back his victorious grin, knowing he had won as the wild-looking girl slumped in defeat.

She had just one more thing that she could not hold back, "I-I don't want anyone to know I'm a girl until after I find out if I'm stuck like this or not. _Please." _She hated begging the man she reviled, but she would hate it infinitely more if she was found out as a girl.

"Fine." The greasy man answered with a note of triumph in his voice. Oh, how happy he would be when they made it out of this place; it was _he_ who found the boy—er, girl-, and he could gloat in everyone's face once they walked out of that chambe- oh. Crap. Walking with a blood-soaked girl next to him wasn't exactly a good idea… _could_ she even walk?

Snape released Harry's aching wrists and asked with as little awkwardness as possible, "Do you have any blankets or towels?" Brow furrowed in confusion, Harry picked up the blood-soaked blanket from where it had fallen to the floor when she was dragged out of the little cave in the Statue.

Snape stared at it for a moment, looking as though he might vomit, and pointed his wand at the gorey thing, "_Scourgify!_" The blood disappeared from the blanket, leaving it completely clean.

Looking appreciatively at the clean linen, Harry said sheepishly, "I would have done that, but the last time I tried I almost burned my top," pointing at the little bit of flannel fabric left from the huge pajama top hanging off her frame. Having a sudden thought as Snape took the blanket from Harry, the girl asked hopefully, "Could you do that to me too? I'm awfully sticky from bleeding to death and all." She gestured vaguely at her blood-saturated clothes.

Snape balked once more and muttered, "No, no, you wouldn't like that."

"Why not?" Harry asked curiously, her violent mood-swings making her frighteningly more at ease.

A green coloring mingled with a blush as Snape refused to answer, instead swinging the blanket around Harry's slim shoulders and wrapping it around the oblivious girl's frame, effectively covering all the blood. With a squawk, Harry was unceremoniously plucked up and deposited over the man's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"What in the world!" Harry squeaked, squirming around like a caterpillar at the unfavorable position.

"You can't be seen walking around dripping blood, and I don't want it on my robes either," Snape snapped uncomfortably, readjusting the wriggling girl. Harry 'humph'ed and allowed herself to be carried out of the chamber. Snape walked quickly through the long tunnels, not wanting the disgusting menstrual matter to leak through the blanket before he made it to the infirmary.

Reaching the last tunnel that led to the bathroom, Harry ventured dubiously, "How are we supposed to get out of the tunnel? It's too steep and slippery to climb."

Snape sighed at the annoying girl, "I would not come down to this hellhole without a way out, imbecile. Ever heard of a broom?" Harry snorted angrily in return, retaining her silence as Snape first sent Harry up(with the threat of death if she did not stay in the bathroom waiting for him) with one of the two brooms he had brought with him, then himself (by grasping the handle of the broom as it rose out up the tunnel).

One thankfully empty trip though the school halls draped over Snape's shoulder later, and they had reached the infirmary doors. Harry swallowed her rising sense of anticipation and dread as Snape all but strutted through the doors, girl-Harry thrown over his shoulder like some sort of (bloody and moody) trophy.

"Oh, Poppy~!" He called with poorly concealed delight through the empty ward.

The sound of approaching nursing shoes and an irate voice, "I swear, you had better have a good excuse for just bursting in here in the middle of the night Severus Snape!" Madam Pomfrey appeared from her office in her dressing gown and robe, looking ready to kill a certain potionsmaster. "Start explai— w-what is _that?"_ She stopped short, seeing the human-shaped bundle slung over the Man's shoulder, "Oh, you killed a student finally, haven't you!"

Snape snorted and set Harry down on her own two feet, pushing back the girl's bangs with a flourish as he replied sarcastically, "Oh, you wanted Potter dead? Well, I guess I could fix that, just give me a minute with a Bludger's bat."

Madam Pompfrey very nearly fainted. "H-Harry? Harry Potter? But, wha-how- dear lord it's his scar—thank God you're alive!" The matronly woman babbled as she swooped down on the glum girl, dragging her over to a bed.

She turned back to Snape for a moment and said seriously, "Thank you Severus. Please inform Dumbledore."

Snape did his best not to crow as he left the room, only pausing to throw over his shoulder at the midiwitch, "Harry's gender situation is to be kept secret until further notice, by the way."

"Of course, of course. Now," the woman announced as she turned back to Harry, "Let's get this blanket off and see what your condition is." The blanket was removed, and a moment of silence, so common that day, passed. "Harry," she nurse asked faintly at seeing the gore-spattered clothes, "Please tell me you're on your period."

Harry shrugged and stated dully, "That's what Snape said, but I don't think I have whatever that disease is. Could _you_ tell me how it is I haven't bled to death yet?"

Approximately three minutes later and Harry was near a mental breakdown as she learned roughly what a 'period' was.

"Oh God!" Harry moaned, horrified.

"I know." Madam Pompfrey soothed as she led the girl into a bathroom at the back.

"A-and It was _everywhere_, on _everything_, my-my- Oh God!"

"I know."

"And, Snape knows! That's why he acted so funny, a-and I was so stupid about it-_Oh God!"_

A sigh "I know, poor man. "

"…Oh God…"

Mortified beyond words that she had traumatized herself and her potionsmaster, Harry wanted to lock herself in a closet until she died, but Madam Pompfrey assured her that she'd need a bath first.

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(Headmaster's Office)

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk near midnight, looking thoughtfully at Fawkes as he pondered the depressing subject that refused to leave his mind as of late—Harry. The child had been missing 17 days, and though his gut told him otherwise, certain members of the Order were beginning to suspect he was dead. Dumbledore refused to believe so—his brother Aberforth had survived in a wild goatherd as a child for ten days! The whole situation was terribly confusing to the Order—not so much for Dumbledore. The key was the large and long lasting burst of magic in Harry's room; whatever that magic did caused the boy's disappearance. If they could just analyze the properties of that magic, then everything would become clear—unfortunately, the magic seemed to have left with Harry, so it was a moot point. That child… always such a mystery.

Dumbledore sighed, and a hurried knocking was heard on his door. "Come in," The old man called lightly, thinking that Filch had caught a student out of bed. The door quickly opened, reavealing a terrifying sight; happy Snape. Dumbledore raised one shaggy eyebrow at the man, "Good evening Severus, what, may I ask, has brought such a happy potionsmaster to my office at this hour?"

Snape grinned crookedly, nearly scaring the other man out of his wits. He clasped his hands together, regaining his cool demeanor, and said evenly, "I just thought you should know something."

Dumbledore stared at the man, clearly fearing for his sanity, and asked, "And that would be~?"

The smirk fought it's way back on to the man's pallid face, and he answered quietly, "I found Potter."

Dumbledore's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, and he asked seriously, knowing the man would not joke about this, "Is he alright? Where is he?"

Snape plucked an imaginary fuzzy off his robes, looking supremely self-satisfied, "She is fine—perhaps a bit hungry and thin and definitely in need of a bath, but no where near death's door. She's in the hospital ward with Poppy at the moment."

Dumbledore let out a sigh of relief, seeming to not pick up on the hint from Snape, and asked further, "Where was he? Do you know how and why he left?"

Snape stopped himself from face-palming, answering the questions with emphasis, "_She_ was in the Chamber of Secrets, and I suspect _she_ has been the entire time. From what I could make out, Potter left because _she_ convinced _her_self that _she_ is the 'weapon' Black told _her _of—that Voldemort is possessing _her._ So Potter left to supposedly save everyone from_ her_self."

Dumbledore looked oddly at Snape, asking slowly, "Why are you using only feminine pronouns when talking of Harry? It's quite rude."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Snape growled out, "Potter turned into a _girl_, so it is only appropriate to use feminine pronouns. Though, she'd rather not anyone but you and Poppy know until it is determined whether she will stay a female."

Dumbledore opened his mouth for a moment, then, his mind putting the pieces together as only his could, he breathed softly, "_Ah…_ so _that_ was the burst of magic… that makes perfect sense, though I'll need Poppy's help to do some testing, just to be sure…"

The greasy-haired man raised an eyebrow of his own, "What are you babbling on about now?"

Dumbledore gave his silvery head a shake, smiling serenely, "Oh, nothing. I almost forgot to thank you Severus—you found him, er-_her,_ and brought her back to us, safe and alive. _Thank you._" Dumbledore stood, opening his arms, clearly intending to embrace the grumpy man.

Snape stepped back quickly, "No, no hugs are needed! You can hug Potter!"

His eyes sparkling, Dumbledore chuckled softly, "Alright, but love is a powerful magic, remember that… Though, I daresay Sirius would be the one Harry would want a hug from. I think it's time to alert the Order." Snape couldn't keep the grin from returning as his mentor raised his wand, sending out his patronus with the simple, happy message: '_Harry was found.'_

…

Five minutes later, and fireplace flared with a constant green of floo activity, the Order members rushing through the fire into the circular office. The first through were, unsurprisingly, Molly Weasley, Sirius, and Remus. Dumbledore was besieged with shouted questions: how was he, where was he, who found him, where was he now, was he alive? Dumbledore reassured them everything was fine, and that he would address them once all Order members had arrived.

The last member, Kingsley, arrived, and Dumbledore stared at the cramped office full of anxious and hopeful faces, his face breaking out into a warm smile, "Harry is fine." All released held breaths and there were cheers, Molly and Sirius embraced tearfully, and Dumbledore continued, "Harry was found and retrieved by Severus," some shocked faces, and Snape couldn't help looking smug," and is no worse for the wear, as he tells me. He also provides a reason why our young Harry disappeared, from the child's mouth."

Dumbledore motioned at Snape, who sighed as if it were a burden to recount the events, "From what Potter told me, he was under the assumption that he was being controlled by Voldemort when he saw the attack on Arthur, and so his mind put two and two together and came to the wrong conclusion; that he was the 'weapon' Black told him of. So, Potter ran away to the Chamber of Secrets with only his wand, using the floo, and has been down there the whole time, I believe." Snape finished sardonically, looking down his nose at them all.

A loud rush of voices, arguing, talking, and babbling, met the short silence that followed the end of the man's short speech. One voice broke through louder than the others-"Where is he? I want to see him!" Sirius, of course, and his one statement led to an outcry to see the missing Potter.

Raising his hands for silence, Dumbledore spoke with empathy to those so desperate to see Harry, "I know how badly you all wish to see Harry, but it is simply not possible tonight," an instant uproar, "No, I'm sorry, but Poppy wouldn't want you disturbing H—"

"To the Infirmary~!" came the battle cry, and all stormed out of the circular office, leaving behind a windswept Headmaster and professor, evidently two and a half weeks of stress enough to make the Order disobey Dumbledore.

"…Well, so much for keeping Potter's little gender problem a secret," Snape sighed angrily, stirring himself to move from the office, the dazed old man following behind him.

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(Infirmary bathroom)

The warm water filled a large bathtub in the infirmary bathroom, and the nurse helped the weak girl into the tub, further explaining the horrible monthly 'gift' and the spells necessary to deal with the side effects. Two and a half weeks of grime were scrubbed off the unwilling girl's body, and a number of 'feminine' spells put in place before she was allowed to finally tug on a hospital nightgown and panties—which felt odd, since they was her first pieces of female clothing she had ever worn, like it made her a certified female.

Harry was cowering by the toilet from the nurse's intimidating hairbrush, which was supposed to somehow get rid of the thicket of tangles and wild animals that was her mop of wet hair, when she heard what sounded like a herd of elephants come crashing through the infirmary doors.

Madam Pompfrey stood frowning, and growled, "What do they think they're doing?" She gave Harry the brush and instructed her, "Stay here and brush out that hair, Miss Potter; I have some skulls to bash in." Harry didn't need telling twice—she wasn't ready to face anyone at the moment…

END of Ch3

A/N: I know it's a long chapter, but I felt it all went together. Please, leave a review.


	4. Chapter 4

For warnings, information, disclaimer, summary, etc, please see chapter one! And please review *u*

_**Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changing Ch 4**_

_Subtitle: Painful Explanations_

(Infirmary ward)

The mob—er, _group_ of Order members made their way quickly to the school infirmary, dead set on seeing the missing boy. The mass of people burst through the hospital doors, two protesting professors on their heels. No sooner had they entered the ward, though, than the terrifying figure of Madam Pompfrey appeared.

A few fearless members detached themselves from the group and surged forward.

"Poppy," Molly Weasley cried out a bit breathlessly, "where is Harry? Do you have him? Is he alright?"

Striding past her, Sirius asked urgently, ignoring the thunderous look on the matron's face, "Where is Harry? I need to see him!"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" The mediwitch roared at the group, beside herself with fury, "My patient needs my full attention at the moment—"

"Oh no, he's dying!" Tonks wailed, misunderstanding the other woman and sending a wave of panic through the group.

Cries of worry overwhelming in the room, Poppy pointed her wand at the group, growling, "Harry is _not_ dying, but you all need to leave so I can finish what I was in the middle of! It is past midnight, the ward is closed to all visitors, now _get out!"_ Angry cries met her statement.

"Enough!" Dumbledore's voice, bolstered by a wave of his magic, effectively calmed the crowded ward. "I understand you all want to see Harry, but tonight is too soon for him. Come back tomorrow during visiting hours and he might be able to see some of you."

Snape, arriving moments before with Dumbledore, nodded condescendingly. The Order members wavered, seeming to finally give in. With grumbles and vows to return in the morning, the group reluctantly dissipated and left the room... well, except for a group of five that refused to move. The Last Order member to obey Dumbledore's orders left, the door snapping shut, and the group of five stared down the other three in the room.

"Please." Arthur Weasley finally spoke, his voice calm, "we understand that Harry would not want to be crowded, but we're as good as family to him." He gestured to the other four that refused to move; Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Sirius, and Remus. They stared pleadingly at the man. Dumbledore wavered, but Snape came to the rescue with his sharp tongue.

"Ah, but you seem to be under the impression that Potter would want to see any of you," Snape spoke silkily.

"Of course he wants to see us!" Sirius barked at the greasy man.

His black eyes sparkled eerily as he replied delicately, "But he _doesn't._ In fact, he requested that no one see him except Albus and Poppy, so unless you want to _force_ yourself on him—"

"_Lies!_" the ex-convict hissed blackly, his face torn between rage and sorrow, "there is _no reason_ Harry would not want to see us and you know it—you're just jealous!"

Snape's face contorted in utter disbelief, and before he could speak Dumbledore stepped in, "I'm sorry, but Severus is not lying. It is not that Harry no longer cares for any of you," blue eyes swept near-devastated faces, "it is just that, after his ordeal he is… in a _situation_ to where he'd rather be alone at the moment. I hope you understand." Dumbledore looked sympathetically at them all.

"No, we don't." Remus replied bluntly, finally voicing himself. Dumbledore rose his eyebrows, and Remus continued flatly, "None of us here know that is going on—all we know is that Harry is here, and we're not being allowed to see him." The four others nodded.

Dumbledore sighed, looking careworn, and Sirius stepped forward, speaking quietly but firmly, "Please, I'm Harry's Godfather. I have a _right _to see him! I'm not leaving until I do."

Dumbledore wavered once more, finally caving, "Fine. Sirius, Poppy will take you to see Harry—if he's willing to see you." Madam Pompfrey's mouth fell open, "Go on Poppy, take him to Mr. Potter."

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(Infirmary bathroom)

Harry stuck the brush in her hair and wrenched, making absolutely no progress as she heard the distant voice akin to a demon screaming, "ABSOLUTELY NOT!" The sounds of arguing voices, scrambling feet, threats and Harry found herself locking the bathroom door and silently crawling into the tiny cabinet under the sink, the hairbrush still matted in her hair.

A lull in the noise, and then a long, silent moment. Approaching footsteps and a hand attempting to open the door. A sigh and a voice, "See? I told you so."

Another familiar voice that made Harry's heart wrench, "No, he probably doesn't know what he's talking about, move aside—move—_move it and let me see my Godson!"_ Oh God.

Another moment of silence, and—"_Alohamora!"_ the door creaked open, and cautious footsteps entered the still-damp bathroom. "Harry?" the worried voice made her eyes water. "Come out, it's alright, it's just us guys, I've missed you bud…" almost a cooing tone—what in the world did the others think was wrong with her?

"Please come out Harry." Sirius pleaded quietly in front of the sink cupboard. No response. The little door opened slowly to reveal the illuminated figure of her godfather, looking heartbrokenly exhausted. He stared at the girl crammed into the cupboard, mouthing wordlessly for a few moments before, his expression softening, he reached inside the little cabinet and gently pulled the girl into an embrace.

"I'm so glad you're alright," the ex-convict murmured into her hair. Harry slowly wrapped her arms around Sirius's neck, finally feeling a sense of ease.

"You don't hate me?" Harry mumbled brokenly.

Sirius pulled Harry away from his figure and regarded her at armslength with disbelief, "Hate you? Why would I hate you!"

Harry sniffled and replied quietly, "I turned into a girl, and I left because I thought that Voldemort was going to-" She was silenced as she was pulled once more against the other's chest.

"So the grease-ball wasn't lying, huh?" Sirius said with a sigh, and answered Harry softly, "No, I don't hate you at all—this wasn't your fault, and you did what you thought you should—in your shoes, I'd have done the same thing, reckless little guy—er, girl." Harry laughed weakly, relief crashing over her like a cool breeze.

"Come on," Sirius said softly as he gently lifted Harry, "the others are going to eat me alive if I don't come out with you." Harry tensed, wrapping her arms and legs tighter around him, and Sirius reassured her, "It's okay, it's just Remus, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Dumbledore—none of the kids were alerted." Harry relaxed slightly, and Sirius rubbed a hand on her back in comfort—"Whoa, no wonder you're so light! You need some food in you, your spine feels like a stegosaurus!" Another weak giggle.

Slowly, they rose from the floor and exited the bathroom, walked the corridor, and, all too soon, entered the hospital ward. Excited shouts, followed by gasps, were all the convincing Harry needed to hide her face against Sirius's chest and hold on all the tighter like a spider monkey.

"Harry!"

"Harry?"

"_Oh, Harry!"_

"You sure it's him?"

The voices converged on her in a swell of heat as she felt bodies pressing closer. She pushed her face closer to the robes smelling faintly of firewhiskey, and Sirius seemed to get the message.

"Give the kid some space!" He barked, hefting Harry a little higher.

"Harry, could you please look at us?" Came Molly Weasley's voice, and, if only for that motherly voice, Harry turned her face away from her Godfather's chest and looked shyly at them all. Molly reached forward and lifted the damp bangs from the girl's forehead.

A few gasps and a low whistles .

Harry hid her face once more, ashamed.

"Oh _Harry,_ don't," Molly cooed, petting the girl's hair, "You're absolutely _lovely."_

Like that made it any better…

A snort of laughter, "hehe, you called Harry _lovely_ Mum~"

"Bill, you're not too old for some corporal punishment!"

"IF I MAY," Madam Pompfrey butted in, "I still haven't finished examining my patient! Sirius, put her on the bed." Harry was peeled off Sirius and deposited on the edge of a bed. The five remaining Order members crowded around. Madam Pompfrey hissed. They backed off. The matron tittered as she ran her diagnostic scans, rattling off as she went, "Low iron level, mild malnutrition and dehydration, a slight lung infection, various bruises and scrapes, and a low-grade fever… and… muscle trauma? Hm, well…" She finished in slight puzzlement, and a list shot out of the end of her wand: "I'll just add this to your file and get your appropriate potions, Mr. Pot—I mean, Miss Potter. And I thought I told you to _brush out that hair._" The old matron sighed heavily, moving away from the bed and off to her office, still as grumpy as ever.

Stepping in stride with her, Dumbledore stated cheerfully, "Severus and I shall join you Poppy; I'm sure there's something we could help you with." A mildly surprised nurse and grumpy potionsmaster walked with the airy headmaster to the small office at the back, leaving the group of five and girl alone in the ward.

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(Madam Pompfrey's Office)

The glass-frosted door shut with a snap, and Madam Pompfrey lay the list of ailments on her desk, bustling over to her an innocent-looking maroon filing cabinent. A drawer marked 'M-P' was opened, a tentacle swatted back (it's security against those twins she muttered) and a thick file extracted.

"I'm guessing we are to discuss Potter's becoming a female while they fawn over her out there?" Snape droned, his arms folded across his chest.

Dumbledore twinkled at the man, receiving a pointed glare in return, and Poppy spoke up as she rifled through the file, "I'd think that would be obvious." She placed her list in the seemingly appropriate spot in the manilla envelope and looked up, "It's not fake, I can tell you that much—no charm, transfiguration, potion, or other magical means can make a male menstruate. Any ideas?"

Snape coughed into his hand to cover his spreading blush as Dumbledore replied, "He's—excuse me—_she's_ had a menstrual cycle? I didn't know that." He turned to look at the embarrassed man next to him, his twinkle full-on.

Snape coughed hackingly into his hand, muttering something about it not seeming important at the time. Chuckling, Dumbledore relented and spoke to the two other in the room in a more serious tone, "I have an idea, the only one that seems logical, though it's so simple that I didn't realize it until Severus revealed the fact our young Potter had turned into a female.…"

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(Infirmary ward)

Once the group was out of sight, the five stubborn but startled adults cautiously approached the uncharacteristically shy Potter. So rabidly eager to see her just moments ago, the group now seemed just as apprehensive as the girl on the bed, stopping to stand speechlessly three feet in front of the sterilized bed.

"It's still me, just a bit weirder," Harry joked weakly, the awkwardness and unease in the air as obvious as the brush still matted in her hair. It seemed to do the trick, the familiar faces softening as they finally approached the found student.

Sirius sat down beside Harry on the bed, the others pulling up chairs or standing. "So," Remus asked with a small smile, "um… have fun without homework?" Not exactly expected, the gender-confused girl choked on a laugh, a smile finally breaking over her face.

The room seemed more warm, and Harry replied with reddened cheeks, "Actually, I didn't give a thought to homework at the time." Remembering the mediwitch's orders, Harry reached back to yank on the hairbrush embedded in her hair, pulling a face.

"Oh, give it here!" Mr. Weasley sighed, shooing Sirius off the bed. In a matter of moments she performed a detangling spell and freed the poor brush from the thicket of hair. Running the brush through the girl's hair gently but efficiently, Harry sat in amazement as the group of older wizards and witch talked lightly of normal things—weather, school, wizarding news—without bringing up the obvious; her disappearance and gender change. It was a bit maddening, but better than the yelling she had expected.

The last lock of hair was brushed out expertly, and Harry looked up to thank the older woman, grinning sheepishly, "Thanks Mrs. Weasley, I never realized how hard it could be to brush out my hair."

Sirius chuckled, asking teasingly, "Well I bet this is a new experience, I thought you never brushed your hair before—it certainly never looked like it." Harry lightly pushed the other's shoulder, smiling. The smile fell into a worried frown, however, when she saw the three returning quickly from Madam Pompfrey's office.

The five around Harry tensed as Dumbledore conjured a chair. He sat, some four feet in front of the bed, and began carefully, "Harry, we—myself and Madam Prompfrey—are going to ask you some questions and perform some procedures to determine how you became female. It's late, I'm aware, but the sooner this is done, the better. Would you rather the others stay or leave?"

Harry looked up at the worried but encouraging faces, and replied nervously, "I'd like them to stay."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and began, "When did you first become ware you were female? Do you remember the events, how you felt physically?"

Harry answered with a scowl, the memories still fresh and searing in her mind, "The morning after we went to see Mr. Weasley, I woke up early, at about 5, and I felt… off. Really, really off—every bone, every muscle and tendon and even my skin hurt, and I had absolutely no balance. It was like vertigo, but it wouldn't clear. I couldn't see through my glasses, and I freaked out. I grabbed my wand and somehow managed to get to the bathroom in the hall," Harry paused, searching her memory, and Poppy made notes as the others listened avidly, "I sat in the bathroom for a long while, and eventually I felt like I could stand without the world tilting around. I looked in the mirror, and… I saw a scary girl." She paused, chuckling nervously as Dumbledore smiled, "Ah, I checked, you know, and I really was, _am,_ a girl. I had been feeling nauseas before, probably from all the pain and vertigo, and I puked. I felt better after that. That's about it." She ended uneasily, hoping she didn't sound weak or unbelievable.

Dumbledore bobbed his head in acknowledgement and asked with a twinkle, "This pain you felt everywhere—do you realize that you're a good deal shorter?"

Harry started, obviously not realizing it, and hurriedly stated, "Well, I saw that everything was smaller, my arms and legs but… no, I didn't." she ducked her head as Snape snorted, Sirius growling in retort.

"It's quite alright, " Dumbledore reassured, smiling softly, "This pain, has it disappeared completely, or do you still feel achy?" Harry nodded at the latter, and Dumbledore continued, "what about your scar? Have you felt any pain from it at all? From what I understand you have been feeling discomfort on and off all school year."

Furrowing her brow, Harry replied thoughtfully, "Well, the first morning, everything hurt, so it didn't really hurt any more than the rest of me, but after that… no, no pain. It's a relief, but a bit odd." She traced her fingers absentmindedly over her famous scar, her puzzled expression reflected by many around her.

"Mmm, just a couple of diagnostic spells and I think we might have our answer here," Dumbledore spoke happily, standing from his chair. Madam Pompfrey moved forward to stand before the anxious girl, "This won't hurt, just lay back for me, okay?" Harry lay back self-consciously on the white bed, her arms folded to resist plucking at the sheets nervously. Poppy waved her wand, muttering, "_Ostendo sum detrimentum menis!_" Yet another list shot out of her wand, but this time it shot out nearly ten feet. One of the few not surprised, Madam Pompfrey gathered the list and scanned it, humming to herself.

"What was that about?" Harry asked nervously, sitting up gingerly.

"Oh," Madam Pompfrey said distractedly, highlighting a large section with her wand an eye-watering yellow, "It justs lists all damage your body has experience in this past month."

"Okay…" Harry mumbled, confused.

Dumbledore approached again, his wand raised, and said soothingly, "Last spell before we know. _Rverto ut verus gender!_"

The magic behind the spell washed over Harry, but she felt nothing. Blinking up at Dumbldore as if to say 'that's it?', she voiced it, "That's it? So, what happened to me?"

Dumbledore sat once more and sighed, "Yes, that's it. You probably aren't familiar with that spell; it forces the person it is used on to return to their true gender—not their prior gender, but their _true _one. You are female Harry, and have always meant to be so."

Harry stared disbelievingly at the old wizard in front of her in his ridiculous purple and teal-spangled robes, "Wa—what? No, I am meant to be a _boy!_ I was _born_ a _boy_—"

"Ah," Dumbledore interrupted, holding up a finger, "but the gender one is born in the Wizarding world is _not _necessarily the one they remain for the rest of their life." Harry couldn't look any more confused and looked ready to either run or start yelling, but was held in place by the need for information as Dumbledore continued, "Most brought up in Muggle home do not know about gender changes, so I'm not surprised that this comes as a shock to you.

The children of Magical families change gender quite often in the womb, then usually once(or not at all) until they reach approximately 2-4 years old. It's quite common, no thought is really given to it by those of the Wizarding world; Muggleborns don't seem to change gender after birth, only while still in the womb due to a lack of magical interference- so, it seems that only those of half or pure blood will switch their gender after birth due to the combined blood connection to magic and constant magical interference. "

The information overload too much at this point, Harry flapped her hands for a moment and asked tersely, "Okay, magical babies can change their gender because of all the magic in the air and in their blood, I get that. But babies and toddlers do that—why me, at 15? It makes no sense."

Dumbledore nodded I agreement and continued, explaining gently, "Of course, there is always the exception when it comes to age, but for an older child/teenager to switch gender is somewhat rare, especially in Hogwarts' history; only two had done so, and in their first year at that. Harry, having been of a pureblood and muggleborn mix, you are very well able to switch gender, but because he has not been around magic growing up, when you entered Hogwarts you were assaulted by that magic- yet, you still did not change gender... can you guess why?"

Harry thought for a moment—what was so different about her that would delay this (unwanted) change…? Well, there was only one very obvious thing she could think of, "Voldemort?" she guessed dryly.

The old wizard smiled empathetically, "I theorize that this is indeed because of your connection to Voldemort. This connection, a mystery to all, seemed to be holding off any switch for you, and none of us were the wiser. But, when you first has the dream of the snake attack on Mr. Weasley, this seems to have opened a connection to Voldemort's vast amount of magic, combined with the fact that you has now been exposed to a decent amount of magic for his almost 5 years of Hogwarts, finally signaling your gender switch to take place. Thus, here you are, complete. DO you have any questions?" Dumbledore finished softly.

Harry sat on the bed, gripping the sheets, only one question on her mind, -" I-I can't change back, can I?"

Sirius wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Dumbledore answered quietly, "No."

Unable to deal with the thought of being forever female, Harry asked jerkily, "What about Voldemort? Can he get access to me now? Am I safe to even be around you guys?"

Dumbledore exchanges a glance with the silent Snape, answering firmly, "You cannot be controlled my Voldemort, and he has no way of knowing what is going on where you are."

"What about my scar? Why doesn't it hurt anymore? And will it hurt again?" Harry asked uneasily.

Dumbledore answered swiftly, "Your scar no longer hurts because that magic pressing against it was released. The constant aching is gone, and I am guessing that it should only hurt in the future if Voldemort is near or feeling particularly emotional. But the constant discomfort should be gone now, as that was the build up of magic, not Voldemort himself. Any other questions?"

Casting her mind around, she asked suddenly, "Why did my hair grow so much? Isn't it unnecessary—I mean, I don't need long hair to be a female. And why don't I need glasses anymore?"

Dumbledore laughed a small laugh, "The built-up magic's fault, I'm afraid; the left-over magic from the large amount of repressed magic found an outlet in your hair growth, it seems. And as for you glasses—you were meant to be female all along, so you were essentially incomplete as a male. Becoming a female fixed that problem of eye development."

All were silent for a moment as the situation was digested.

"What happens now?" Remus asked quietly.

"Do we let all the others know, or just the Order, or what?" Bill asked curiously.

Dumbledore held up a hand, seeming to have all the answers, "We have a very unique situation here, one that, if utilized properly, can turn the tables in the Light side's favor."

END of Ch 4!

A/N: Well, sorry for the wait! My fingers hurt TT^TT The explanation finally comes out! I hope you picked up on the humor and that it all made some sort of sense; I have no beta and my brain feels like lukewarm jello =n= If any seem OOC, especially Harry, I use the excuse that this is quite out of the ordinary events :I Lol, really, I tried to make their characters shine through while still having them react in unfamiliar ways to unfamiliar events. Blame hormones if you have to XD

Next time, what will become of Harry, dun dun dun dun~! Oh, and I included Bill because I like the number 5. Get over it~ O3O And, no, I didn't forget about the other kids and the whole storyline. Sillies ewe


	5. AN

Heyyyyyyyyy... I moved this to the correct chapter (2). G'day.


	6. Chapter 5

_**Changing Ch 5**_

All stared silently at Dumbledore, "Harry is known to be a female only by those in this room—not another living soul knows of this. Everyone, on both the dark and light side, believe Harry to still be male, and most that he is studying abroad. As a female, Harry can go completely unnoticed and safe in the open—this is a great advantage."

Eyebrows knitted together, Harry ventured dubiously, pushing the deep well of panic back for the moment to focus on this new information, "Wait… I don't get how me being a girl, and only you guys knowing, could help the Order… "

It was Snape who answered this time, much to the still-embarrassed Harry's dismay, his sardonic voice carrying easily to her reddened ears, "The Order spends a great deal of time and resources ensuring your safety Miss Potter, in more ways that your simple mind could comprehend. You are a target of the most dangerous man in the Wizarding world, so having you safe and seemingly vanished would help the Order greatly in being able to focus on other, _important_ matters."

Though glares were sent his way, it was undeniable that he was right, Harry mused to herself. "Mmmm, alright, that makes sense," Harry murmured, eyes on her lap.

With a slight clearing of his wizened throat, the old headmaster continued in a business-like tone, "We have two options as I see it here, Harry: one, you could remain in hiding at Grimmuald Place with Sirius, discontinuing your education expect for with those teachers in the order; or two, you could remain here at Hogwarts, a normal student." Harry started, the choices catching her off guard. Dumbledore's damn eyes twinkled at her, knowing the questions coming and eventual answer.

"Wh-what do you mean, stay at Hogwarts? ," Harry choked, not keen on the idea of being ridiculed for changing gender, normal in the Wizarding World or not, "I don't exactly look like 'Harry Potter' anymore..." the newly-made girl furrowed her eyebrows as the twinkle increased in the old man's eyes.

With a horribly suppressed smile, Dumbledore explained cheerfully, "Exactly—you don't look like Harry Potter, which is essential to this plan. That is, of course, if you still wish to go to Hogwarts,"

Harry chanced a glance at her Godfather, almost wincing at the rabidly hopeful expression on his tired face. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at Sirius, stating with a quiet pleading in her changed voice, "Sirius… I love spending time with you, but I want to have an education like everyone else—Hogwarts is…" she trailed off, unable to admit the one thing she never could aloud; Hogwarts was home to her. Though the smile melted off his face and his eyes tightened, Sirius nodded jerkily in agreement. Leaning farther into the man to convey some sense of an apology and affection, Harry turned back to the grinning old coot.

Peering over his ever-present glasses, he continued with his little plan, the others in the room listening slightly impatiently, "Very well, Harry – for you to remain safe and undetected, even in public, you will do something at once easy in theory and difficult in practice. You will assume the role of a new persona, one that is female, a new student here at Hogwarts, and one that has absolutely nothing in connection to Harry Potter." Dumbledore paused to observe how his audience was taking in the concept, especially one certain black-haired girl, receiving a nod of understanding from Harry before continuing, "You will enter a grade different from the one you were in previously—"

"Wait!" Harry interrupted sharply, receiving reprimanding looks from some and encouraging ones from others, "you mean I won't be a 5th year anymore, won't be in classes with my friends?"

Before the white-haired man could answer, Snape cut across blackly,, "Of course, Potter's being able to goof off with his imbecile friends in the back of a classroom is more important than the Order, nay the whole Wizarding Worl—"

"Shut UP Snape!"Sirius barked, gripping Harry's shoulders painfully as if to keep himself from attacking the seething man before him.

Seeming to notice Harry's pained expression, Remus hastily voiced himself before things got ugly, "Ah, would Harry be in a different grade so he'd, I mean, she'd be less noticeable to her yearmates?"

"Yes, that is precisely why," Dumbledore replied.

Sirius released Harry a bit apologetically, having realized his grip had become uncomfortable. Harry resisted the urge to rub at her sore shoulders and instead asked uneasily, "So, I'd be in, I dunno, 4th year? Like, with Ginny?"

Looking a little remorseful, the old wizard shook his head sadly, and Harry ventured again with growing trepidation, "Well, okay, then I'd be in the 6th year with Angela-"

"No," Dumbledore cut across softly, truly looking apologetic now, a rare look to be seen on the ancient face.

Completely confused now, Harry asked with strained humor, "What, don't tell me I'm going to be a first year…?" she trailed off with a dead chuckle, the room oddly quiet, as if a bomb were hanging above the little hospital bed.

With a sigh, Dumbledore met Harry's perturbed eyes and explained, "Given the fact that you have ties with students in a year below you, and the fact your prior schooling and general appearance would give you away, you will not be placed in a lower grade." The old man spoke in a light voice, but his words were measured like gunpowder, "you also have ties with students a grade above you, and even more two grades above you. It would be inappropriate to place you, with your schooling, in the seventh year, so 6th year seems the best fit."

A boyish snort of frustration escaped the dark girl, "I already said I could go into the 6th year with the other 6th years, sure it'll take some hard studying, but with Hermione's help I kno—"

"No." Dumbledore interrupted once more, still tense beneath his would-be calm exterior. At Harry's confused and irritated expression, he let fall his loaded words, "Due to your ties with other students, you are being placed into the only feasible year, 6th. Due to connection to other students, you will not only be placed in a different year, but also in a different house, and have as little to do with all who are familiar with you as possible." The bombshell was dropped, and silence reigned in the stale air for nearly 5 seconds.

Boom.

Interestingly enough, it was not the unstable girl, nor the ex-convict, nor the werewolf that made the first sound. It wasn't even the over-protective mother figure, nor the good-natured father-figure. It was Bill.

"What?" He asked quietly, as if he had misheard the crystal-clear words. With that one word, the hospital ward erupted in a war of sound, echoing off the stone walls in a cacophony.

Amid the noise of protest and approval, mini shouting matches ensued:

The predictable Snape vs Black, snarling and snapping at each other like a cobra and a hound, with Remus standing in between, yelling himself hoarse to keep the bloodshed at a minimum.

Molly and Poppy , the matrons of overprotectiveness-at-any-cost, against Bill. Bill, from his heated words, evidently thought that Harry would not survive being thrown into a different house and year without any friends.

Dumbledore, ever the one with reigns in hand, tried to simultaneously retain order and keep both mini-wars from becoming too violent.

And then there was the subject of the brawl. Harry, having too much information already slung at her tired and malnourished brain, sat at the end of her bed, trying to process life at Hogwarts without any of the things she loved—her yearmates, her house, her friends—traitorous, damnable tears seared at the edges of her green eyes, the only physical trait completely unchanged. She shut them slowly, letting her head fall forward as those around her fought verbally for her and, in her opinion, against her. Never one to cry much even as a boy, it was not too difficult to push the tears back, but the injustice of it all still remained.

She couldn't do what people excepted of her, she wasn't a hero—all she had gone through in her time at Hogwarts had been done with the help of her friends, and now that she was practically banned from them… how was she supposed to live? Loss of control is a terrifying thing for anyone, and as Harry sat on the edge of her bed, with all control over her life seemingly ripped away from her since that terrible night at Grimmauld Place, she found herself numb. The chaos continued on, oblivious to the girl sitting like one of the dead, until—

A hand, warm, on her hand. She looked up, and saw the kind face of Mr. Weasley smiling a sad smile at her. He sat next to her at the edge of her bed, loosely holding her hand, his crooked glasses giving him an oddly wise appearance in the hospital light. "You know," he said quietly to her, as if it were the most simple thing in the world, "you always have a choice in the matter."

Harry looked blankly up at the balding man she had come to view as one of her substitute fathers; she had consigned herself to the fact that she had no control, what was he talking about?

Giving a slight chuckle at her bemused face, the redhaired man continued softly, "Remember, you were given two choices—go to Hogwarts, or—"

"Sirius," Harry breathed, the conservation that had transpired just minutes before coming back to her. A ray of hope, as clichéd as it sounds, wormed its way through her pained expression, and she asked of the man, barely heard over the noise around them, "Are you sure? I already told Sirius that I'd stay at Hogwarts, I doubt Dumbledore'd let me go back on my word…"

"Ah," Arthur stated knowingly, "but if you want to stay at Grimmauld Place with Sirius, I doubt he'd let Dumbledore stop you. And besides—he's your Godfather; he does have sway in decisions regarding your life. Dumbledore has to respect that."

Harry nodded apprehensively in agreement, Mr. Weasley squeezing her hand slightly in reassurance, and looked over towards her Godfather. Sirius stood barely half a foot from Snape, both looking as if they would bite each-other if not for Remus' constant interference. Releasing Mr. Weasley's hand, Harry walked with what she hoped was a brave air over to the snarling wizards.

Snape sneered down his nose at the other man, "Your precious, pampered Potter would be _safe _with the Headmaster's arrangements, but of course the brat's safety isn't important to you, as long as—"

"It's not fair!" Black cut across with venom, "A boy his age needs friends and a social life, what's he supposed to do—"

Snape snorted dryly, a cruel glint in his eye, "Such an attentive Godparent, you only referred to _Miss_ Potter as a boy twice in one sentence."

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but cut off with a surprised grunt. Harry had managed to sidle up to the warring men, but had been completely unnoticed by the two. So, she did the next logical thing, given that she wouldn't be heard—yanked on Sirius' robe sleeve. The frazzled man looked down in surprise, his expression changing from one of annoyance to one of disquiet. "Yes, Harry?" he simply asked as Snape looked on coldly.

Drawing her chin up, Harry stated with barely a tremble, "I've changed my mind. I want to stay with you."

Once more, the man's expression changed, but this time it morphed into confusion, and then into eye-watering joy.

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long! QAQ I've been very busy with school, if that's much of an excuse. Uhhhhmmmm, well, What can I tell you about the next story… what you'd expect to happen with this story hopefully won't. XD Ah, I'm tired. Reviews, especially with ideas, are very appreciated.


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